


The Only Rock Steady . . .

by Caiti (Caitriona_3), GalahadsGurl



Series: The Cahill Project [41]
Category: Flashpoint (TV), Grimm (TV), Mission: Impossible (Movies), Nikita (TV 2010), Penny Dreadful (TV), The Cahill Project - Fandom
Genre: Birthday Party, Blood and Injury, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Found Family, Friendship/Love, Gen, Jeremy Renner Character Combinations, Surprise Party, The Cahill Project, The Unusual Avengers Legacy Protocol, brothers in arms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-08-23 15:44:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20245291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caitriona_3/pseuds/Caiti, https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalahadsGurl/pseuds/GalahadsGurl
Summary: “The only rock I know that stays steady, the only institution I know that works, is the family.” –Lee IacoccaOwen arrives home after assignment, surprisingly late for Will's surprise birthday party.





	1. Bloodstains

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!!!! 
> 
> Thank you all so much for your continued support of this universe! We're working hard to finish the beta work so we can start posting the new verse, and we're so excited to hear what you all think of "Complicated". 
> 
> In the meantime, however, here's another couple Owen Bingos, starring our dearly beloved Owen Elliot and the people he loves the most in the world. XD 
> 
> This takes place on October 31, 2011. 
> 
> Let me know what you think! You're all amazing! 
> 
> Translations at the end, as always.

[](https://imgur.com/J44X5eB)

Marina fluttered around her living room, trying to focus on the surprise birthday party she planned for her lover with their sons. Their attempt to surprise the family patriarch at the same time ended up blown to hell within a week. Hansel's refusal had been insistent and emphatic - he argued for being too old and set in ways to bother celebrating his four hundredth birthday. (Four hundred and fifteenth, but the Russian didn't think arguing her point would change the man's mind.) So she'd offered a token protest, then let him have his way. And if she cussed about the stubborn German under her breath, who was there to know? 

However, a singular absence glared from among her guests and the Russian could feel panic building like a firework in her gut. Owen should be here. He **promised** he'd be here. 

Sam approached her, his daughter on one hip and his free hand reaching out to rest on his mother's shoulder. "Ma . . . breathe," he ordered firmly, eyes fixed on her face and forcing Marina to take stock of her panicked near-hyperventilation. 

Reaching up with both hands, she gripped her son's hand on her shoulder tightly between her own. Sam's breathing was slow and calm, giving her a guide to follow as she forced herself to calm. Her granddaughter reached out with one tiny hand to pat her cheek gently. "Baba kay?" she asked with wide blue eyes so very like her father's. 

One hand moved from Sam's to press Sadie's fingers warmly to her cheek as she promised, "I'm all right, my little Bug. How's my Sadie-girl?"

Marina's granddaughter gave her a brilliant smile, her two tiny front teeth gleaming in the dimmed light of the common room at the Tower. "Su'pwise!" she cheered, clearly excited about the whole idea. 

"Yes, my darling; a big surprise from your _Deda_, huh? Won't it be fun?" the woman asked, brushing her nose against the baby's to the accompaniment of a torrent of giggles.

Sam snorted softly as he joked, "Sure, as long as he doesn't shoot us." 

Giving her son a dry look, she scolded, "He's not going to shoot anyone. I told him we were having a party of his father tonight - he has no idea _Vati_ basically told me to shove a party where the sun don't shine." 

The sniper snickered a little at the colloquialism, teasing, "I would pay good money to hear Granddad say anything of the sort." 

"I'll just bet you would," she laughed with a roll of her eyes. "Lights will be on; no shouting ‘surprise’; just his family here waiting to celebrate with him."

"So everything looks awesome, Ma. Is there a reason you’re stressing out right before the party?" her eldest asked, sincere concern in his eyes as they watched each other. 

"Lucky was supposed to be back this morning, but he didn't make his flight. It landed three hours ago and Joe said he wasn’t on it. He **should** have been on it; he checked in for the flight. There’s no reason he shouldn’t have gotten here already." 

"That doesn't sound like Lucky," Sam replied with a frown. "No way he'd miss Dad's birthday party. Not without a damned good reason." 

"Agreed - so you can see my concern." Bouncing a little on her toes, she looked around the room, her tone lowering into a conspiratorial murmur just between the two of them. 

It was then Shae interrupted the two as she announced to the room, "Colonel Grimm has arrived at the Tower, Ms Marina."

Giving her son a significant look, Marina turned her attention to the AI with a grateful smile, "Thank you, Shae. I think we're ready here, so go ahead and reroute his elevator, please."

"Yes ma'am," the computer agreed, allowing the Russian to turn her attention back to her son once more. Gifting him with a frazzled smile, she promised, "We'll talk later, yeah?"

Sam’s chin dipped in silent agreement, promising, "Yeah, Ma. Go on.” 

Pushing up, she kissed her granddaughter's cheek warmly before bolting towards the elevator bank. She arrived at almost the exact instant the elevator doors swung open, revealing her lover. As per usual, her Misha had his nose in a file folder - a state she remedied by plucking the paperwork out of his hands without a second thought. He blinked in surprise, head coming up to look her square in the face as she cocked her head at him. "We have rules for a reason – I’m not allowed to bring knives to bed and you’re not allowed to do work at my dinner table. You know this.”

One corner of that gorgeous mouth tilted upwards in a lopsided smile, tone teasing as he pulled her close, “Bossy. Can’t we just skip dinner and head up to the apartment? We’ll have the entire place to ourselves for hours.”

She laughed happily at the suggestion, even as her head shook, “Tempting, _moy vozlyublenny_, but no.”

He grumbled good-naturedly, one arm around her shoulders as he followed her through the foyer towards the door of the common area. After a moment, he leaned over to murmur into her curls, “I could make it worth your while.” 

“You always do,” she reminded him with a chuckle. “Either way, the answer is no.”

Entering the room, Will slowed to a stop at the sight awaiting them. Except for the few away on long term missions, almost everyone in the family stood around the common room. (A pang stabbed through at one cornflower-eyed absence, but she could do nothing except worry for the moment, Marina clung to the supposition that “No news was good news.”) Everyone's attention had turned to the door, and the Colonel's tone turned suspicious as he asked the room at large, "What's going on?" 

In one voice, the entire family called out, "Happy Birthday, Will!" 

Squealing as her partner rounded on her, Marina barely managed to dodge his grab. Her giggles rang through the room, combining with the laughter of their family, as Will proceeded to chase her through the throng of people. "Marina!" he roared, attempting to sound stern and failing miserably as his laughter overtook his anger. 

"Happy birthday, Mishka!" she laughed, finally finding a safe hiding spot behind their youngest son. "In fairness, it was Rene's idea!" 

The newly minted sixteen year old grinned at his father as the older man turned a betrayed look on their child. "You and Mama have shelled out obscene amounts of money for a lot of birthday parties this year, Dad. It was only fair we got to celebrate yours in like fashion." 

Marina snickered as she watched Will consider that, his shoulders slumping in silent concession. His fingers pointed her direction after a moment, pinning her in place as easily as if he'd grabbed hold of her. "You just wait, _sumasshedshaya devushka_ . . . January 31st next year? It's your turn." 

"Promises promises!" she chirped with a grin and a wink.

Jason's voice rang from near the back of the group then. "So . . . is it safe to assume we won't be witnessing a murder this evening? Because I protest the sight of blood with my dinner . . . unless it's from my steak."

"Ha ha," Will snarked with a roll of his eyes, earning a round of laughter through the room. His head shook in fond exasperation before he nodded his head to the room. "Thank you. I didn't need the party, but I appreciate the well wishes anyway." One hand gestured to the food laid out on the buffet tables as he insisted, "Let's eat." 

A ragged cheer went up through the room, as everyone turned their attention to the food. Marina smiled as her lover snagged her from behind their retreating son, arms looping around her waist and pulling her into him tightly. Bending, he pressed a sweet kiss to the tip of her nose, insisting, "I love you." 

"_Ya lyublyu tebya tozhe, moya Mishka_," she purred in reply, arms coming up to loop around his neck. 

The two were content to stand together for a bit, watching the family mingle and chat, before Will frowned. Marina sighed softly - she knew whose absence he'd finally noted. "Marishka, where's Lucky?"

"I . . ." she started, before an interruption behind them cut her off, "I'm here." 

The Power Couple whirled together to find Owen standing behind them. Marina's eyes narrowed at him, taking in the lazy slouch against the wall beside him, even as Owen grinned. "Sorry I'm late - traffic from JFK sucks balls." 

Marina's response to that was rote by this point, her tone scolding as she reminded him, "Children, Lucky." 

As for her partner, he only grinned, leaving her side to catch his best friend in a warm hug. Owen's mouth twitched a little bit at the tight embrace, though he returned it in equal measure, the two men slapping each other's backs firmly. That little twitch, however - to say a thought itched at the back of Marina's brain understated it a bit. Something was **wrong** . . . and that knowledge seemed determined to drive the Russian crazy until she figured out what. 

Releasing Owen, Will turned back to her, his grin widening a little as she waved them both off. "Go get something to eat. I have to check on the rolls in my oven."

Both nodded in reply, before traipsing off towards the buffet laid out. As for Marina, her eyes searched out her new protector among the crowd. Gratified to see Ethan's own eyes glued to Owen's frame, the woman approached him, tone barely a murmur as she insisted, "Come with me." 

Ethan's attention turned to her, the two watching each other for a long moment before he nodded once in silent acquiescence. The two slipped into Marina's kitchen together, the woman's fingers flicking the switch to close the shutters separating her kitchen from the rest of the common room. Tony had installed them so Marina had a quiet - soundproof - space of her own . . . for whatever she needed it for. They could open into the main room over a bar where people could sit and chat with the occupants of the kitchen or they could seal off the space entirely to afford the woman the rare opportunity to rant and cuss without witnesses. The shutters had come in handy more than once, and the Russian appreciated the privacy sometimes more than she could say. 

Moving to her oven, Marina checked the breads inside - it may have been an excuse but the need for it didn't make the excuse less true - before putting her back into a corner. Ethan seemed fixated on the shutters, his nose twitching a little. "What is it, Ethan?" she asked, her arms coming up to cross over her chest, hands cupping her elbows to protect herself from whatever the werewolf was about to say. 

The werewolf turned away from the shutters, those eyes of his eyes concerned as he announced, "He smells like blood." 

Hands coming up to cover her face, she closed her eyes tightly before asking the question she genuinely dreaded an answer to. "Someone else's blood? Or his own?" 

A long pause proceeded the answer before Ethan murmured gently, "He's bleeding, Marina. Whatever happened to him, it's not a little wound." 

"_Der'mo_," she cussed, tone soft but more than loud enough for him to hear her. 

"Indeed," he agreed, with a downward twist of his mouth. "I understand his desire not to alarm his friend, but considering the smell, he is losing an alarming amount of blood." 

"Allow me to advise you on those two - they will protect each other from anything, up to and including themselves." Marina sighed heavily, her hand coming up to press against the bridge of her nose. "Am I cursed, Ethan? I am **surrounded** by stubborn, overprotective men." 

"As you are nearly as stubborn as they, I'm not sure why you think that is a surprise," he teased her, his tone fond despite the stoicism of his features. 

"Ha ha," she replied with a chuckle, forced to concede the point for no other reason than it had long ago proved true. “I don’t know what to do. If I confront him, he’s going to deny it until the cows come home. But if I just let him bleed . . .”

“You have more than one person here with a heightened sense of smell, right?”

Turning away from her newest companion, Marina began to pace across the length of her kitchen, fingers still massaging the headache she could feel building between her eyes. “Vincent’s running late - his shift ran long at Medical – but yes, he should be here within the next fifteen minutes or so.” 

“What about his daughters? They are Wesen as well, are they not?” 

“Yes, but I don’t know if they’d confront him either. Inari might opt towards discretion, but Dacia?” Sighing, she confessed, “Normally, I would think she’d go straight for blurting it out but . . . Shae?” 

The AI almost sounded startled as she inquired in answer, “Yes Ms Marina?” 

“Can you keep an eye on Owen? Specifically if someone mentions anything to him about blood?” 

“Of course, Ms Marina.” 

“Thank you.” Turning back to her friend, she threw her hands up in frustration. “So what do we do if neither of the girls says anything? We just let him bleed until Vincent shows up?!" 

"I am pleased to hear the horror in your voice at the thought," Ethan replied with a small smirk, earning a dirty look from the handler. "In answer, though, I don't believe we have another choice. As you said, he will deny the charge if we confront him about it." 

Bending to rest her forehead against the cool marble of her counters, Marina allowed herself a long moment to cuss. Finally, she spoke up, “You can’t use your boyfriend powers to convince him?” 

The werewolf paused for a moment, clearly startled by the request, before his tone turned fond. “Owen is not my boyfriend.” 

“Not yet anyway,” she grumbled, earning a soft chuckle from the man. “_Bozhe moi_. I’m just putting it out there; if my Misha kills him for being an idiot, it’s his own damned fault. _Da_?” 

Ethan laughed lightly. “As I cannot argue the validity of your declaration, I will not try.”

“Thank you,” she snarked, earning a broad wink from him. “Come on – we should probably at least go make sure he doesn’t face plant into the food. That will be a mess, for more than just the obvious reasons.” 

As the shutters to the kitchen swung open once more, Marina couldn’t help but marvel over their impeccable timing. Apparently, Dacia didn't have a single qualm about saying anything regarding what she could smell. Almost as soon as the shutters cracked open, the Russian heard the Blutbad demand of the room, "All right . . . who's bleeding?" 

Ethan and Marina looked between each other for just a moment, before Will's voice boomed through the room, stern disapproval barely masking the deep-seated terror. "Lucky!" 

The Russian bolted to her partner's side, Ethan hot on her heels. Fortunately, the rest of the family parted like the Red Sea, creating a clear path to where her brother and her lover stood against the opposite wall. The two men appeared in Marina’s line of sight only moments before Owen began to sway on his feet, hand lifting from where it pressed against his side. Blood oozed from the skin and from the hem of his dark t-shirt, fat droplets splashing to Marina’s carpet.

Next to him, the Colonel held tightly to his best friend's shoulders with both hands, mercurial eyes huge as he stared at the younger man. Owen moved sluggishly, lifting his head to look at the older man with a sheepish smile. There was no color to him despite the forced joviality in his tone when he announced, "Shit Boss . . . I think I got shot."

"You idiot!" Will choked out, catching Owen as the Cleaner fell into him. There was panic in the tremble of his hands, forced gentleness driving the Colonel to gather Owen into his body, both of them lowering slowly to the floor. Cradling the man's head to his shoulder, Will attempted to scold him again through the tears now running down his cheeks, "Why the hell didn't you go to Medical, you dumbass?" 

Marina dropped to her knees next to them, wincing a little as the carpet abraded the skin away. Vaguely, she could hear Marta ordering someone to go to her apartment for her kit, though the Russian cared little about whatever was happening outside of stopping the bleeding. Owen grunted hard as she pressed down on the injury, though there was no other indication of pain. To be honest, Marina didn't think Owen even noticed the pain now as his eyes slowly drift closed, the war he was waging with unconsciousness starting to catch up with him. "It's your birthday, Boss . . . like hell I would ever miss your birthday." Turning his attention to Marina, he breathed, “Sorry about the carpet, Boss Lady.”

“Shut up, Lucky,” she breathed, her own tears starting to choke her as she pressed harder against the wound eliciting a breathless whimper. Dashing her streaming eyes against the sleeve of her shirt, she growled, “Fuck the carpet.”

“I’m gonna remember you said that,” Owen tried to tease, back arching a little as he hissed.

Marina's hands spasmed against the wound. She could barely speak through her sobs, forcing her to hiss out her threat, "You damn well better, because if you die on me Owen Matthew, I swear to **THOR**, I will let him electrocute your ass to bring you back from the dead then kill you myself." 

Huge cornflower eyes stared up at her, the Cleaner visibly surprised by the vehemence of her threat. After a moment, he breathed, "Damn but you're scary, Boss Lady." 

"_Da, chert voz'mi_!" she replied, her tone sharp as she insisted, "And don't you forget it." 

The man's attempt at a sly smirk fell short as he drifted away, tone hazy as he promised, "I won't." 

Marina watched her lover press his forehead against Owen's temple, before leaning forward to press against both men with her own. She watched as the first man she claimed as a brother lapsed into unconsciousness from less than an inch away, her tone hoarse as she begged him, "Don't you dare leave us, Owen Matthew Elliot. Don't you dare!"


	2. Blood Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will waits for his best friend to wake up . . . just so he can kill him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the conclusion of these ficlets. First Marina . . . now Will. XD 
> 
> Please let us know what you think! We love to hear your thoughts about this verse - it really does push us to be our very best - very fastest - selves. You're all amazing and wonderful. Thank you all so much. XD

[](https://imgur.com/EmEMn30)

When Owen woke up, Will planned to kill him. 

Elaborate plans ran on a constant loop through the Colonel's mind as he fiddled with the gauze tapped to the inside of his elbow. Shooting him felt redundant, regardless of how satisfying it would be. As for stabbing him, Marina had always been better with knives than he, though he could manage in a pinch if he had to. 

Really, Will was just going to kill him. It really felt as simple as that. 

He didn't know how long he'd been glued to this chair, fiddling with his bandage and waiting for his best friend to open his eyes. It certainly felt as though it had been an eon, if not an eternity. He knew Marina had been with him for hours, before she'd finally allowed Vincent and Sam to bully her home to tend the girls and get some rest. (Will hated to admit it, but he approved of her absence - he didn't really want a witness to Owen's murder.) 

When Owen finally groaned, Will's head snapped up so fast his neck popped audibly. Owen jerked in his bed, eyes flashing wide in surprise. The Colonel chuckled a little, reaching out to lay a hand over the other man's to settle him down, promising, "It's just me, Lucky. Calm down - you're all right."

Owen's eyes were huge when he rolled his head to face him. The two men stared at each other for a long moment, before Owen settled back against his pillows once more. Sadness clung to the curves of the Cleaner’s smile, even as he teased, "How long is **that** going to last?"

"I haven't decided yet," Will snarked in answer, eyes rolling as he sat back in his chair. "You scared Marishka and me to death, do you understand that!?" 

The man grimaced a little as he shifted in the bed. "Yeah, I'll bet. I didn't mean to. I honestly didn't think she'd gotten me so bad."

“She?” Will echoed the word, cocking a questioning eyebrow at his friend even as he began flipping through his own mental files.

Owen snorted, tone choked with forced joviality as he reported, "You'll never **guess** who I ran into, in Virginia." 

A heavy sigh from the Colonel was answer enough, coupled with his groaned, "Amanda? Really!? Can't she just die already?"

"Apparently not," the Cleaner grumbled with a roll of cornflower eyes. “She had muscle at her back – I think she’s trying to regain the power she had with Division.” 

Will's fingers lifted, pressing into the ridge above his eyes, the steady throb of a building headache growing there. "Great - and without Division around, there's no way to keep tabs on the shit she tries to pull."

"I tagged her good," Owen insisted, grunting as he braced himself on his palms to push upwards, "so she'll be down for a bit but you know Amanda. The title of 'tenacious bitch' never belonged to a more deserving woman." 

"I'll let our mole in Division know to keep an eye out, as well as where you were when you two clashed," Will agreed with a frown, forcing a deep breath through his nose in an attempt to calm down. However when his anger failed to dissipate, he turned it instead on his friend, barking out, "You're an idiot." 

A light snort slipped free from his old friend, Owen’s head dropping back onto his pillow at the statement. Tone sarcastic, he questioned, "So, we're going to do this now, huh? Good to know." 

Will slammed to his feet, his best friend's flippancy over the issue snapping the final tether on his temper. Hand slashing out to slap a pitcher of water across the room, he roared, "Damn it, Owen - this is not a joke! You could have died, you moron!"

"I am aware, Boss," he snarled back, with a roll of his eyes. 

"So at least pretend you give a damn!" 

"Why?" he demanded, causing Will to blink at the question. "You're my best friend. And I realize you don't think you should ever come first to people, man, but you're my **best friend**! I had my first priority exactly where it should have been - it's you! It's **ALWAYS** you!" 

Will bent over the bed, grabbing Owen by the face and forcing him to meet Will’s eyes. Emotion turned his voice hoarse and rough, his hands shaking the younger man hard once as he demanded, "And you don't think the same isn’t true for me!?” Owen’s eyes widened a little, curiosity warring with shock as those cornflower eyes roved over Will’s face. “You're my brother, Lucky! And considering how much of my blood is pumping through you right now, I'm pretty sure we're **blood brothers** in addition to all the rest. So excuse me for being a little pissed off at you, for thinking my damned birthday party was more important than your fucking **life**!" 

The two stared at each other for a long moment, before the door creaked open behind them. Miranda sounded fond, if stern, as she spoke into the room, "Just as a reminder, it is midnight. And Dr. Keller will be happy to kick you out, Colonel, if his patients can’t sleep because the two of you are yelling at each other loud enough to wake the dead." 

He could feel his jaw tighten, before he released Owen's face and moved back from the bed. "Understood, Miranda," he grit out, feeling his cheeks warm as he turned away from them both to stare out the window. 

Refusing to turn away from the window until he had his emotions once again within his control, some small part of the Colonel felt a little childish considering his stubbornness. Even still, he listened intently to the conversation behind him while Miranda checked Owen's vitals and wound site. Nurse and patient chatted, mostly about how he felt and his pain levels, before both fell silent as Miranda finished up. After a bit, the RN’s voice addressed Will directly, tone firm as she insisted, "He should sleep. And soon."

"Yes ma'am," he agreed, eyes fixated on the street outside the window. "Thank you, Miranda."

"No thanks necessary," she replied with a chuckle, "Just living the dream."

"Indeed," he murmured, eyes slipping closed as he rested his forehead against the cool glass.

The two men were silent for a time, before sheets rustled behind him. After a moment, Will could see Owen take a seat in the armchair next to the window. The Cleaner moved with care though without the kind of hesitation indicating severe pain - thank Thor for small favors. Still furious, the Colonel kept his gaze focused at the window, unseeing of whatever lay on the other side as he waited for Owen to confess whatever brought him across the room. 

It took longer than either of them probably thought it would, but at last, the younger man announced, "I'm sorry, okay? I honestly didn't think I was bleeding that badly." 

Will's eyes rolled at the apology, snarking lightly, "Kinda missing the point there, Lucky." 

A soft snort seemed to be the other man's only response, before Owen questioned, "How much do you remember about Syria?" 

Mouth twisting at the reminder of his least favorite mission for the Army he served, the Colonel couldn’t help the dry disdain in his tone as he retorted, "Getting shot. Everything else kind of got erased in the aftermath." 

Another long pause filled the space between them, before Owen confessed, "I remember everything. I remember the look on your face the second you realized what we'd walked into. I remember how pissed off you looked when our guys started dropping right and left - the anger in your tone when you started barking orders to grab who we could and fall back." 

Letting his head fall back, he continued, "I remember how scared you looked . . . when you stepped between me and those bullets. But you weren't scared of getting shot - you were scared for **me**. Because **I** was the target in the sniper's crosshairs."

"You're my best friend," Will countered with a frown, arms tightening as though to shield himself from the memories stirring in their graves. "You've always been my best friend."

Owen smirked a little as he teased, "Considering I’m also your first friend, I'm not entirely sure there's not an insult in there somewhere, but I digress." Sobering he leaned his head back against the headrest of the chair as he continued with his thought. "You would have done anything to protect me in that moment - up to and including sacrificing your life. Is it really a surprise I would do the same for you?" 

Eyes slipping closed, Will couldn’t hold back the heavy sigh in response to his friend’s declaration. One eye slitting open, he offered a rejoinder in an attempt at a joke, "We're both idiots, then. Is that what you're trying to say?"

"Maybe not in so many words," a dry chuckle accompanied Owen’s response. "You're my **family**, Boss. You and the Boss Lady and all of your kids . . . your brothers and their families . . . these are the people I chose to spend the rest of my life with. **YOU** are the person I chose to spend the rest of my life with. I'm always going to put you first, but I promise to remember sometimes I have to put myself first so I can do that.”

"All I ask, Lucky - I cannot watch you die," he insisted, feeling as though he was choking on the words. 

Owen's resulting question felt quiet in a way nothing to do with volume, as he offered his own comeback, "But you'd ask the same of me?" Will turned to look at him, one eyebrow cocked upwards in question. The Cleaner shrugged, reminding his friend, "I can't watch you die either, okay? So if I'm going to start pay attention to myself, you have to start doing the same. Agreed?" 

Turning to face his friend, Will braced himself up against the window by his shoulder. Cornflower blue eyes locked with steel grey, the two friends gauging the other's sincerity, before at last the older man nodded once. "All right. Agreed."

Some part of Will didn’t realize how rigid Owen held himself in his chair until he suddenly sagged backwards. "Thank fuck," he breathed in relief, one hand coming up to scrub over his face. 

Will snorted, unable to help himself at his friend's overdramatic nature. "I'm pretty sure neither of us is quite that bad."

"And **I'm** pretty sure the Boss Lady loses sleep over the both of us. Seeing as we've established we're both idiots."

"Touché," the Colonel drawled in reluctant agreement. "We don't make life easy for her, do we?"

"Considering her near constant worry over your eating and sleeping habits? Not to mention my hotheaded recklessness caused by my fast mouth and gorgeous face? No, I'm pretty sure the Boss Lady is exhausted just looking at us." 

Eyes rolling – and without a valid argument to the statement – Will let his head drop to rest against the glass. “She’ll probably be here in the morning, to yell at you. Fair warning.”

“Poor Boss Lady,” Owen grunted, hands folding over his belly as he closed his eyes. “We do like to keep her on her toes.”

"Maybe don't tell her you didn't realize you were bleeding so badly, yeah?" Will teased, chuckling a little at the horrified look on his friend's face. 

"Oh geez. She's gonna murder us both." 

"How on Earth did this become my fault?" the older man demanded through his laughter. 

"Your party . . . your fault." 

"Horseshit," Will scoffed with a roll of his eyes. "Probably not wrong, but still horseshit. How is it fair your dumb stunt is gonna get me in trouble?"

Owen chuckled, amused as ever his best friends and their dynamic – both in relation to him and to each other. Slumping backwards in his chair, his eyes drifted to half-mast, tone turned lazy as exhaustion caught up with him. A drawl crept through his tone as he teased, "Can I just say this is going to be hilarious? Cause I feel like this is going to be hilarious." 

"Only you would think so, Lucky," the man sighed, head shaking as he moved to lever the younger man out of his chair. "All right - back to bed with you or Vincent is going to kick both of our asses." 

Considering how little help Owen offered, Will couldn’t hold in his relief when he dumped the other man back into bed without injuring him further. Smothering his friend in blankets to prevent another escape, a moment later the older man slumped back into his chair beside the bed, a soft huff leaving him as he scolded, "You could have helped, jackass." 

"And give you a different reason to scold me?" Owen ribbed through a yawn. "Hell no."

"Go to sleep, Lucky," the Colonel ordered with a roll of his eyes, folding his arms over his chest and propping his feet up on the braces under the mattress. 

For a long time, Will thought the other man had fallen asleep as there was no response. Nearly asleep, he jolted as Owen's voice broke the silence in a near whisper, "Still mad at me?"

"When have I ever managed to stay mad at you longer than it took to yell at you?" Will asked in lieu of an answer. 

A small smirk curved up one corner of Owen's as he joked, "Touché. Good night, Boss." 

"Night, Lucky. Sleep well."

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:
> 
> (R) Deda - grandpa (term of endearment used for Will Grimm by his granddaughter, Sadie Grimm)  
(G) Vati - Father (Marina's nickname for Hansel Kuhn)  
(R) moy vozlyublenny - my love (one of Marina's nicknames for her longtime lover, Will Grimm)  
(R) sumasshedshaya devushka - crazy girl (one of Will's nicknames for his longtime lover, Marina Petrovka)  
(R) Ya lyublyu tebya tozhe - I love you too  
(R) Der'mo - damn it  
(R) Bozhe moi - my God  
(R) da/net - yes/no  
(R) Da, chert voz'mi! - Damn right, I am!


End file.
